First off,
let me start by saying that I’m getting a little tired of the puns.
Now that
that’s out of my system, I think that O’Gorman used Chapter 3 to bring in
issues of the binary (which of course he punned with computer coding) within
imagetexts. He begins with the Ramist tradition and its particular situation in
pedagogy. To recap, Ramus’s philosophy helped lay the groundwork for the
printing press, based on his efforts to move information outside of memory and
into a storage container. This shift in internal to external can be documented
in the learning flashcards that O’Gorman includes, which rely on subjective
mnemonic devices. Under the Ramist tradition, these cards have to be remediated
to bring that knowledge outside of the personal and the memory, and into what
eventually becomes the textbook, the tool of the Republic of Scholars. As a
non-academic side note, his characterization here of the textbook and the ROS
made me imagine that cliché scene of the bad guy (the ROS) spinning around,
stroking a white cat in his lap (the textbook) while plotting world
destruction. I’m not sure if I can explain that by a lack of sleep, a weird
imagetext, or being a cat lady…I’ll hope it’s the imagetext one though.
O’Gorman
uses the imagetexts of William Blake to illustrate the problems with the Ramist
tradition, and show that it can be rebelled against and possibly overcome if we
adopt Blake’s methods in our contemporary pedagogy. I did enjoy the exercise he
shared from his own class, where he had students remediate “Nurse’s Song”. His
students comment, “It was strange that when told what something is supposed to
be, everyone almost automatically adapts their perception to see it that
way”(66), I found to be very telling of how we’re trained to look at images. There
is the notion that there is one right way to interpret images (and, to a certain degree, I’d argue that while
there aren’t advocates for reading a text one way, there is potentially a
hierarchy of interpretations for specific texts, ruled by a more favored or
famous reading). O’Gorman presents Blake’s work as both resisting the Ramist
tradition of his day, as well as offering us methods of resistance for its
legacy in the academy and culture at large. Primarily, the resistance of seeing
things in polar terms (as Blake does maintain certain binaries, such as good
and evil) serves Blake’s imagetexts, while complicating the binary by making
them inescapably bound to one another. O’Gorman writes, “Contraries may oppose
one another, but they are not to be separated or divided into immutable
categories or heading as in, for example, the Ramist dichotomization of
knowledge” (62). Ultimately, this serves Blake’s purposes, “involv[ing] a
unification of form and content, material production and ideology” (62).
In this chapter we also, finally,
get a (somewhat) clear definition of a hypericonomy. To be honest, I’ve been a
little frustrated with O’Gorman’s refusal to give us a definition until this
point (and a somewhat shabby one here, at least for me), as it’s made it very
difficult to conceptualize any framework of a hypericonomy for me. It’s kind of
sounded like “It can be anything!” to me at this point. However, when I read
this: “…the process of subject formation in a culture saturated with endlessly
repeated broadcast images. Those who engage in hypericonomy are asked to take a
more critical look at that mode of subject formation, and have the opportunity
to short-circuit it by producing and broadcasting their own schematic set of
icons—not for the sake of marketing and sales, however, but for the sake of
education” (68-69), I thought this:
Memes play
with images, jokes, and cultural artifacts and make commentary on them, not to
replicate images for mass marketing or sales, but to spread (hopefully witty)
ideas, thoughts, and observations through these images. One you log enough
hours on Memebase, you’ll understand the implied tone/joke/point of the image,
and the text will then make sense. And then you’ll cringe later when you see
something in real life and think of how you’d meme-ify it. Maybe I totally
missed the point of O’Gorman’s attempt at defining hypericonomy here and
instead betrayed my own time log on Memebase by bringing this up (I made the
front page once!!!!!!!!), but I think this might work. After all, he does say
he wants us to take off with the idea of the hypericonomy, so I’m going to run
with this for now.
As for
areas where I take issue with O’Gorman, one is in the presentation of etching.
While I think the metaphorical value of Blake’s process of the materiality of
his etching process matching the ideology of his philosophy and pedagogical
beliefs is important and powerful, I think O’Gorman missed what I see as an important bridge between the technology and materiality of etching and his
stance on the Republic of Scholars. Etching was developed at the end of the 15th
century, and was used by a range of artists, including Rembrandt and Durer.
This technology marks a significant turn in how art is distributed throughout
Europe. Most art produced before this point is more akin to how we think of
“high art” (canvas painting and sculpture), and because of the materiality
required, was usually commissioned by the Church as objects of religious
devotion. The Reformation challenged iconography at the same time etching was developed, but
nevertheless, a lot of prints depicted religious scenes or teachings. The
biggest difference emerges out of the ability to distribute these prints. Because
artists could produce one art image and then reproduce it without devoting the
original amount of time needed over and over again, art becomes largely
accessible to the middle class, rather than either the institution of the
Church or the upper-class with the money for patronage (read in O’Gorman terms:
The Republic of Scholars). I think that this is an extremely important
consideration that needs to be made when evaluating the tradition against replication that Blake (and I think O’Gorman as well) advocate. While the
artist’s touch is important, and I understand the resistance to mechanization,
I think that the relevance of etching as a shift in cultural
proliferation and access to art needs to be considered as a way to challenge the monopoly of the Republic of Scholars. After all, if you bring
artist’s images into the home, then you can then think about the meanings of
the images on your own terms, in your own private spaces, and either not have to visit "The Institution" to
access them, or hear about the art owned and housed by the ROS and reported by them to lower classes.
I’d like to
return to the remediation of Blake’s “Nurse’s Song” as something I really
agreed with and enjoyed in this chapter. O’Gorman examines how titles and text
project the content we search for in an image. I think this is even more
powerfully seen in modern and abstract art. It made one particular work come to
mind for me, “Two Children Are Threatened by a Nightingale” by Max Ernst:
The title of this piece comes from the writing at the bottom
of the frame (written in French). This dates to 1924 and is a Dada piece,
although I think it’s significant that Surrealism was also “founded” this year
(Surrealism, perhaps even more so than Dada, in my opinion, has weird and
fascinating interaction between image and text, as O’Gorman describes). In this
picture, the text is literally on the image, and works to complicate this piece
in frustrating and beautiful ways. The first thing one might notice is the
background of this piece: It is simultaneously a pastoral scene and one evoking
the antiquity of Rome, with the arch d’triumphe and the Greco-Roman dome
silhoutte. However, the subjects in this piece shouldn’t belong in either of
these “genres” of painting. The girl on the left is running with a knife,
possibly defending herself from or attempting to scare off the nightingale
overhead. The other figure has collapsed into a fetal-esque position, but seems
distorted and too limp even for a collapsed human. There is a man hunched atop
the barn, carrying what appears to be a third child (but Ernst only mentions
two, so which figure is really the third?) and reaching for the doorknob that
is attached to the picture frame. I think this work epitomizes this
complication and opposition between text and image in an imagetext that
O’Gorman describes not just in this chapter, but in 1 and 2 as well. How is a
nightingale threatening? Who are the two children? What is the man on the barn
doing? Why is the figure so distorted and possibly dead? What is the purpose of
Classical and Pastoral imagery in the background? The suggestion that Ernst has
provided may reference some of the images that a viewer can locate in the
piece, but by no means does it explain the piece. However, our inclination is
to try to view the piece in the terms he provides, so we impose a relationship between
characters that may not have existed without that suggestion—for instance,
without the mention of the threatening nightingale, the bird’s silhouette may
have just faded into the background as part of the Pastoral scene, as the frame
is oddly dominated by the sky.
I think
this piece is perhaps a better examination and example of O’Gorman’s point
here. I found that his art references in the piece were a bit lacking (for
someone who resents the Republic of Scholars, he uses a lot of terms and name
drops that can’t really be understood unless you’ve had some art initiation
from the Republic of Scholars, an opposition I find odd), so I hope that this
either interests or helps explain this to anyone who isn’t an art nerd and
didn’t get some of his references to art.
Overall,
I’m enjoying the integration of art into text (obviously), but feel a bit lost
in other areas of O’Gorman’s text. I recall him resisting a linear, traditional
layout for his ideas in the book, though, so hopefully as I move further into
it, it will become clearer and clearer.